


Pampering the Falcon

by Miss_Von_Cheese



Series: You fly, I walk [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Asexuality, Dinner, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hardcore schmoop that should be illegal, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Massage, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Sensuality, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 03:25:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1672910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Von_Cheese/pseuds/Miss_Von_Cheese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is always here for Steve. But the day Sam needs help to process his feelings, Steve stays by his side --his left side, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pampering the Falcon

Sam was buttoning his pants when he heard his boyfriend’s low moans coming from the bed. He turned his head towards him and couldn’t contain a smile at the sight of Steve splayed on the mattress, pale skin on white sheets, his cute sleepy face and his strong body not fully awake. He was tangled in the covers, barely hiding his erection, stretching like a puppy who wants his belly rubbed. 

“I’m gonna make breakfast if you want,” Sam announced after kissing his lips, to let Steve know he would be alone in the room for a while, he could take care of himself if he wanted to. 

Despite their perfect relationship, Sam was always worried he would eventually frustrate Steve, and he made sure he gave him enough alone time, but as usual Steve groaned, pouted even, and wrapped his strong arms around his neck.

“No, no… stay with me please, I want cuddles. Please, _he_ will behave, _he_ won’t bother us, but stay here,” Steve begged, covering his hard-on with a pillow. 

Sam smiled, touched by the supplications, and agreed on a last cuddle. Yet he knew he wasn’t in the mood. The sad feelings had grown in his heart during the last few days, and today would be the worst. He kissed his boyfriend one last time before getting up.

“Sorry, Captain Little Ass, I’ve got to go. Have a good day,” he smiled weakly as he put his shirt on. 

Steve knitted his brow but didn’t say a word, and Sam knew his boyfriend could tell something was going on, but he quickly flew from the room to avoid questions. He didn’t want to talk, not today. When he stepped in the streets, he received a text. A crappy picture of Steve still in bed, smiling to him, with a little speech bubble that read “Have a good day, Falcon Big Butt.”

.

The whole day Sam tried to focus on his counseling work. He had people to help, veterans to support, but today it felt like a masquerade. It was all wrong, how could he tell people how to act, what to do with their lives when he couldn’t even bear his own burdens? He smiled and repeated his speech about choosing what you want to do with your memories, how to deal with the past, but it was all lies. And for every piece of advice he gave, he felt himself die a little inside. 

He didn’t know what hurt the most: the memories, the pain, the impression to be fake when he couldn’t even use his own methods on himself. He listened to the veterans but his eyes were empty. He wanted to chase those feelings, to be positive again, but every time he saw the date somewhere, he heard the explosions, the screams, the terrible noises echoed in his mind. On this anniversary everything was triggering. 

Sam knew he should have taken a day off to avoid anything army related, but staying at home, staring at his reflection in the mirror wouldn’t have been better. He had hoped things would calm down during the afternoon, that he would process his feelings and be in a better mood before the evening, but this year it just didn’t work. He was still nervous, anxious, angry, and tired, when he walked back to their apartment. All he wanted was a good pizza in front of a stupid cartoon, Steve telling him about the last jokes he had heard -most of them had stopped being funny in the 80’s anyway-, and a good night of sleep to forget. Maybe some beers and the assurance that Steve would bring him to bed and not abuse him if he was intoxicated. 

But when he opened the door and saw the table set with candles and flowers, when he smelled the roasted meat, and gravy, and heard Trouble Man on the laptop speakers, when he saw Steve all dolled up for an improvised romantic dinner, Sam lost it. He couldn’t contain the tears suddenly rolling on his cheeks, the knot in his stomach. He choked, and sniffed, and gargled. With a loud sob, his breath caught in his throat, he gasped, not even rubbing his eyes. 

“Birdie, what…?” Steve started, his cute smile replaced by a worried face. 

Sam’s bottom lip trembled for a second as he tried to talk. “... f --fuck you, Steve, fuck you and your perfection, and your romantic dinners, and your dates, and… Jesus, how can you be so perfect?” 

Not even shocked by the insults that Sam already regretted, Steve walked to his boyfriend and tenderly wrapped his arms around his chest. He squeezed him hard, kissed his temple, and as much as he wanted to just leave to stay alone, Sam couldn’t help resting his head on Steve’s shoulder. He buried his face on the strong arm, the white shirt quickly soaked with his tears.

That was the good thing about Steve, his perfection was annoying sometimes but he was so big, so cuddly, that hugging him always felt good. When he was in these arms, Sam felt like he wasn’t alone anymore. He had someone to cling to when he woke up after a nightmare, a protection against the violence of his mind, the most perfect shield. But to accept to be taken care of, he had to admit he was weak, he had to ask for help. And Sam Wilson never asked, he waited, and waited until he had no other choice but cry out for help. 

Steve held him in silence for a long moment. He was there, stable and solid as a rock, radiating heat and love, his strong arms locked around Sam’s shoulders. He would have stayed like that all night if his lover needed it. He didn’t even ask a single question, didn’t even kiss him, understanding that his presence was the most important. 

When he started to run out of tears, Sam sobbed, shoulders still shaking, and tried to catch his breath. He looked up with a pout. “I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay, you needed it,” Steve smiled softly. 

Sam let his boyfriend wipe his cheeks, he leaned into the touch with a sad smile. “Sorry, it really is a bad anniversary today.”

“I think I got that. We all have our bad days, don’t worry. But you should have told me, I wouldn’t have prepared diner. I would even have left you alone if you wanted.” 

“No, it’s okay, I…” Sam shook his head, then looked up at the ever so supportive face. “I kinda need you tonight.”

And he raised on his toes to wrap his arms around Steve’s neck, reassured by his presence, his warmth. Steve took him by the hands, pulled him towards the table. “Do you wanna eat, do you wanna have drink first?” 

Sam nodded twice, he wasn’t really sure what he wanted but Steve was holding him, keeping him grounded. Steve was giving him a reason not to get drunk and pick up a fight in a bar. He let his super soldier sit him on the couch, then accepted the beer he was handed. It was easy to be there and don’t take care of anything. 

“Something you need to talk about, babe?” Steve asked softly, placing his bottle between his legs to keep both hands for Sam. 

Sam shook his head. “Nah… don’t play shrink with me today, please. Tell me about your day, did you learn anything new, grandpa?” He was smirking, trying to convince himself that everything would be alright. 

Happy to play the game, Steve licked his lips and nodded. “Yeah, I was watching TV while reading the last files we found, and apparently the Kardashian still have a fascinating life… and everything can happen in Jersey Shore, what a time to be alive!”

Sam snickered, and that was as close of a laugh as he could, but at least, it was sincere. He shook his head, kept listening at Steve who pretended to enjoy silly TV shows and acted like he was shocked to see porn on mainstream channels --they had already talked about Game of Thrones a thousand times, he wasn’t really offended, but it remained a running joke. Steve mentioned the news, how he hated Fox, and the recipes he had noted from Food Network. Nothing too serious, nothing that could make him think too much, and Sam was grateful for that. 

After a moment Sam realized he wasn’t really listening though. He was hearing Steve’s soft voice, his comforting tone, he watched his lips move, it felt good but he didn’t understand the words. On an impulse, he moved forward and cut him off with a tender kiss. Steve smiled, kissing him back, and ran a hand on his shoulder.

Sam mumbled against his lips. “I… Sorry, this is gonna sound super cheesy but I love you, okay? I love you so much. This is scary sometimes, be-- because it’s good but I’m afraid of what might happen, and…” 

“Nothing bad is gonna happen,” Steve assured with a sorry smile. He pulled him closer and Sam melted in his embrace.

“I don’t wanna lose you, fuck, sorry, I sound like a teenage girl but…”

“It’s okay, love, you’ve got nothing to prove. You can be cheesy, you know I like that. You won’t lose me, don’t worry. You won’t lose me.” 

Sam let out a soft groan, slowly rocked between Steve’s arms. “I…” He looked up, took his boyfriend’s face between his hands. “I love you, man. I really do, I’m not afraid to say it. It’s just that it’s getting so serious, and I don’t know what I would do if you…” 

His voice caught in his throat, he tried to look away but Steve took his chin between his fingers, looking at him with his too big blue eyes. “I love you too, Sam. More than I’ve ever loved anyone, this is a first for me. And yes, it scares me too, but it’s less scary knowing we’re gonna get through this together.” 

Sam chuckled, wiped a tear from his cheek. “Shut up, we sound like one of those chick flicks you love so much!” 

He laughed as Steve tackled him on the couch and kissed him. Steve blew on his nose gently. “What can I say? I’m a romantic!” 

-

When they finally started to eat, the pilot was feeling better. He knew he should open up more often, voice his feelings out loud, talk, do everything he told the people in his support group to do, but that was easier said than done. Steve’s dinner was delicious, as always, and the gravy cheered him up. It was ridiculously domestic but to know that Steve had spent hours making sure his evening would be good was heartwarming. It was just a stupid roasted potato in front of his nose, but it meant someone cared. 

After his second slice of this outrageous pecan brownie that had him licking his fingers, Sam leaned against the back of his chair with a moan. “Oooh now that was orgasmic! I don’t wanna know what was in there, that was too good!”

“Just enough butter and sugar to make you feel better,” Steve laughed. He got up, walked to stand behind Sam, and ran his hands on his shoulders. “What do you say... you get naked, and lay on the bed?”

“I say I like where this is going,” Sam smiled, looking up. “But you don’t have to, I’m fine. Besides I think I owe you one.” 

“Well then you’ll owe me two. And I’ll have my hands full of Falcon for the next hour, I’m the one getting a sweet treat!” 

Sam preceded his boyfriend into the bedroom. He shivered when strong hands slipped under his shirt and helped him removing it. Steve was handsy, he caressed him, kissed his neck, his shoulders as he undressed him. Slowly, taking his time, he did everything he could to make him feel good, and between his hands Sam could only relax. 

He was a good lover, he knew how to kiss, how to touch to make him shiver, but what Sam valued the most was the trust he had in Steve. The pilot had been worried the first few weeks, worried that Steve would be just like other guys, saying that it was okay but trying anyway, giving massages only to test his boundaries and disrespect his consent. But Steve was nothing but a gentleman. A gentleman who could slap his ass and call him a dirty birdie, but a gentleman anyway. 

Steve stopped for a second after slipping his thumbs under the seam of Sam’s boxers. The pilot just had to nod to make him understand it was okay with him, before he was fully naked, guided towards the bed. 

Laying on his stomach, Sam already felt his body relax in anticipation. The sound of the bottle cap, then the smell of massage oil made him shiver. “What’s this scented?” 

“Apple pie,” Steve chuckled. The bed dipped when he knelt next to him.

“Oh, come on, you’re such a…” Sam couldn’t finish his sentence as two strong hands landed on his neck, started kneading his shoulders, and he melted, his face buried deeper in the pillow. 

Steve had quickly learned how to make him shut up. He had read books and tutorials online to know which moves could turn someone into a marshmallow. His thumbs pushed the rights spots, hard enough to release all the tensions, then brushed softly the heated skin. His broad palms traveled up and down Sam’s back. The Falcon sometimes suspected Steve used this as a pretext to explore his body, to know it by heart, every muscle, every relief of his back. He felt like Steve was reading him with his fingertips before pushing harder to knead his flesh.

Sam felt strong hands on his shoulders, his back. Steve took care of his left arm, massaging everything from his biceps to his wrist, before carefully relaxing his hands. When he started something, Steve finished it, and he made sure his lover was feeling good up to his fingertips. He gently stroked his palm, his fingers, one by one, then did the same for the other arm. Without rush he covered every inch of his skin with caresses and gentle touches.

“You are so gorgeous,” Steve whispered sometimes in an admiring tone. 

Sam only hummed in pleasure, already half-asleep. He welcomed the warm hands on the small of his back with a delighted purr. Steve knew he was sometimes sore after flying, and he insisted on the right places, pushing the heels of his hands hard to chase the last subtle pains. When he attacked that particular point where the harness rested on Sam’s back during the flights, the pilot grabbed his pillow with a growl, a gasp, and a low moan. 

“Oh fuck! Ohhh… Steve… I love you…” he panted. It hurt but it was so good! 

Steve laughed. “We could ask Stark to improve the suit, make it lighter, you know?”

“No, I don’t want anyone touching it. I like it the way it is,” Sam grouched.

He loved his wings, they felt like a part of himself now, and he didn’t want someone like Stark to come and change them. Steve’s hands slid further down, and Sam could feel the pleasure his boyfriend had cupping his ass. He guessed some possessiveness in the way fingers flexed around him. His big paws were huge enough to cover his curves, and Steve was the only guy he knew who could spend long minutes massaging his buttocks without trying anything else. Sam arched his back. Baby soft fingertips dug into his flesh, patiently working his muscles. He loved that part, he sometimes considered bribing Steve with candies for some more minutes of this sweet treatment.

After lingering over his ass longer than necessary, Steve slid down his legs. He firmly stroked, pinched and rolled the inside of his thighs, adding some oil when needed. His hands were soft, efficient, but never too curious. Sam loved how even when he touched him in intimate areas Steve remained focused; it was always sensual, never sexual, and he didn’t make it awkward. 

“Those legs!” Steve murmured with a soft sigh. “No wonder I kept running after you like a creep… I can’t wait for summer, you’ll look so good running in shorts.” 

Sam shook his head and lied with a smirk. “Ah, no babe, I never run in shorts, sorry. I keep pants all year long.”

“Really?” Steve asked, his tone really disappointed. 

Sam chuckled, then laughed in the pillow as Steve, understanding the joke, gently slapped his butt. He stilled and relaxed on the mattress, offered to magical hands. One leg, then the other, Steve massaged his thighs, his calves, without rushing. He insisted on his ankles, which was always a good thing since Sam was often sore after landing. Steve’s touch was healing, his always impossibly warm hands and precise moves soothed various pains all over the pilot’s body. Last but not least Steve sat by the end of the bed and took care of his feet. Sam had never been one to believe in “that reflexology crap” but in these moments he had faith that Steve touching his feet was the end of all his problems. He purred, and groaned as nimble thumbs tortured his soles, every second of pain followed by moments of pure bliss. He wiggled his toes, making Steve laugh.

“You’re an angel!” Sam sighed happily.

“Last time I checked, you were the one with the wings.”

Sam didn’t reply. Nothing could convince him that Steve wasn’t a gift --and in days like these he wondered what he had done to deserve him. Once he was done, Steve kissed his feet and followed a trail up his body, planting kisses here and there, as if his lips could finish his task. 

Steve nibbled on his ass with a chuckle. “Sorry, can’t help it. Too tempting.” 

“I know you’re jealous, Captain Little Ass.”

Sam felt Steve’s hands on his sides. “I’m gonna have to flip you like a pancake, this side is done.”

“I’m afraid this pancake looks burnt,” Sam joked as he rolled over. 

“What do you mean? It’s perfect like that, just how I like it.” Steve kissed his lips with a sweet smile, brushed his fingers on his cheeks. 

More relaxed than ever, Sam closed his eyes to avoid the light. He was hard, his cock raised above his lower stomach, but he knew Steve wouldn’t go for a ‘happy ending’ if he didn’t ask first. They both knew that his erections didn’t mean ‘yes’, nor any kinds of sexual urges, and Sam was happy to be able to relax without worrying of the outcome. He closed his eyes when Steve stroked his shoulders, warm hands running over his torso and chest, and opened them again as his feet were gently squeezed. 

Sam blinked, wiggled his toes, then looked down. Steve was patiently rubbing his feet, toe after toe. 

“I… I think I fell asleep,” Sam mumbled.

“You did, you looked so peaceful,” Steve replied with a touched grin. “You can go on, you don’t have to wake up. I’m almost done.” 

Sam stretched, smiling blissfully, and rolled his neck. It was as if his whole body had just been fixed, everything was right, he felt good. He had no strength left in his arms or legs, a marshmallow man on top of marshmallow bed. He yawned when Steve got up, but reached out to invite him.

“Don’t leave!”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Steve assured, removing his impeccable white shirt. With a smile, he quickly undressed, leaving all his clothes on the floor. 

As Steve crawled on the bed, between his legs, hovering over him, Sam locked his arms around his boyfriend’s neck. In days like these, he always wondered why he had to survive. What he was still here for, when so many good men had fallen for him. He sometimes felt unworthy, but then he realized he was here for Steve, to make this huge puppy happy, to fall asleep in his arms, and love him, cherish him for as long as he could. He was alive to help Captain America save the world, and to make Steve Rogers laugh when times were hard. 

Sam wrapped his legs around Steve’s waist. Between kisses, he whispered, “Think you can sleep on top of me? Cause I’m never letting you go.”

“I can do anything on top of you, but I prefer to do it… on your left,” Steve replied, giggling softly at first before he burst out laughing, really proud of his stupid joke. 

Sam tried hard not to laugh, but Steve’s silly face made his uncontrollable laughter contagious. They rolled together, holdings hands, their fingers entwined. When he was on top, Sam pushed Steve’s chin with his forehead, brushed their cheeks together. 

“Thanks for everything, I’m lucky to have you. Even if you’re a pain in the ass.” 

“Am I?” Steve smiled as if it had been the best of compliments. 

Sam nodded before kissing him again. “Yep, you are. A damn good one. And I love you.”


End file.
